Wednesday, December 30, 2015

LSF Publications is currently having a huge Boxing Day sale. Save up to 50% on your favourite spanking ebooks. There's something for every taste in spanking. the books are flying off the shelves (figuratively if not literally) so hurry on over and fill your shopping cart.

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

You may recall that I shared some of naughty boy Andy's punishments from Rollin Hand's collection of short stories, Tales of a Switch. If you would like to refresh your memory, they're here and here. It seems that Andy wasn't the only one being spanked in that household. His wife Rachael also came in for her share of punishment, and it happened this way:

You’re now wondering if this was a one-way street and, of course, it wasn’t. But I’m not like Andy. I’m calm, organized, level-headed, and I don’t do crazy stunts. My flaw? I make a mistake and I’m down on myself. I beat myself up. For example, I pay the bills on time—every month. One thing I absolutely hate is late charges. A few weeks ago I missed one, I guess, because when the new bills came, there it was—a $39 late charge. I was upset and I fumed about it. “How could I do this?” I yelled at Andy. “I cost us $39 for nothing.” Andy, of course, told me to calm down, that it wasn’t that bad, anyone can make a mistake. But I just went on ranting and railing. He said, “You’re going to upset the kids, let it go.”

But I couldn’t, and for a weekend I made everyone miserable. Monday morning, the kids got off to school on the bus and Andy said, “I think we need to have a talk.” I said, “What?” He stood, gripped my arm and said, “Rachael, you will accompany me to the rec room.” And I was thinking ‘why can’t we talk here?’

But by now he’d escorted me down there. He turned to face me and said, “Rachael, obviously this thing with the late charge has got you upset and you feel very bad about it. So bad in fact that you are taking your frustration out on everyone in sight. Well, I wouldn’t be a very good husband if I didn’t do something to help you get over the fact you made a mistake.” Now all this time I couldn’t help but notice that Andy was rolling up his right sleeve and this little light of understanding was beginning to flicker in the dim recesses of my brain. “So” he continued, “I am going to relieve you of your feelings of crushing guilt for having made a $39 mistake.”

He pulled a chair away from the wall, sat on it and pulled me right over his lap. I had on a light housecoat and he pulled that up over my hips.

Underneath I wore panties and a tank top. Before I could process this Andy’s fingers were in the waist band and I was naked from the waist down. I sputtered, “Andy! What are you doing?” And he said calmly, “Well, dear, you feel so bad about your accounting mistake—you must take better care of the finances—that I thought I’d punish you for it, then we could all forget about it and life would be grand again. It was what? $39?” I said, “yes,” and he said “Ok then, 39 good smacks. Here we go.”

Andy spanked me hard and said “One. 38 to go.” And then he started to spank, first one cheek, then the other. The spanks sizzled, I have to admit, and I was yelping and squirming. But no matter what I did, Andy just held me over his lap and steadily spanked away while calmly counting, “21…smack! 22….smack! 23…smack!” Meanwhile I was wriggling and yelping because it stung. I marveled that Andy was so strong that he could hold me over his knee, grip my hands to keep them out of the way and just keep spanking.

And it was then I realized that when I had been spanking Andy, he could have overpowered me at any time and stopped the whole thing—but he hadn’t because he loved me and had allowed me to chastise him for his faults. I came to the realization that he was spanking me now because he loved me and had figured out that this was what I needed. I had been making everyone miserable. It wasn’t the damn $39; it was my attitude and my inability to let it go.

So it was about at spank number 30 that I quit squirming and started lifting my bottom to meet Andy’s descending palm. I just gritted my teeth and told myself how much I had deserved this. Andy continued until the count reached 39. My bottom was burning hot. My butt cheeks probably looked like two red stoplights. He was rubbing them, kneading them. It felt delicious.

Even so, when Andy said, “Now, do you think you have paid fairly for your mistake?” I was silent for a minute then I said, “No. You should add 10 more for interest.” Andy sighed and said “As you wish, dear.” He laid on 10 more scorchers that really had me gasping.

I’ll also have to say that as a result of Andy’s dominance, my nudity, my squirming across his thighs and the heat in my bottom, some heat was being generated elsewhere. When Andy let me up, I threw off my housecoat, panties and top and dragged him to the couch. If he was late getting to work, he could make up an excuse. It was one fib I was going to let slide.

That was a turn of events I hadn't anticipated. it seems that Andy is in charge after all, at least some of the time.

Monday, December 28, 2015

Sir Wendel: I gave her some drop seat PJs and a spanking under the mistletoe. No
spanking surprises for me this year. I did get a funky Christmas
sweater.

sub hub: I was shopping and of course wanted to give Mistress K. something spanko
related. I was in a high end kitchen store and saw (and bought) a
beautiful wooden spatula that I knew would be good for spanking. I
blogged about it about a week ago. I came right home and gave it to her
right away and she LOVED it. She gave it a soft test run and we both
agree it will be a good addition to her arsenal.

Six of the best: Hermione, on these festive holiday weekends, I usually invite a special
mature lady over for a good spanking. I bend her over a bed, then raise
her dress waist high, pull her bloomers down. (directoire knickers), and
cane her. Yes, she is given 'six of the best' in my opinion which
stings her bare bottom, to my satisfaction. Then I toast her naked rear
end with a glass of wine. Of course is wearing garter-belt and
stockings, which pleases my eye.

Arched one: Too many adult kids around for spanking this year and no new implements
but I did get an early present that was opened before the kids arrived. 6
new pair of panties and tonight I'll model them for her.

Anon: The silicone Smiley Face spatula with cut out eyes and smile is waiting
for a test run. We are interested to see what marks it leaves.

Jenny: I gave my new boyfriend a great leather belt. It will eventually be used
for its intended purpose. For right now, he's using it to hold up his
pants.

Dr. Ken: Christmas and Christmas Eve were totally free of anything spanking
related. I would need someone to spank before that sort of thing could
actually happen....

Blondie: After being so stressed out, after Christmas, I couldn't sleep, Ty gave
me exactly what I needed to redden my booty and end an extra special
orgasm. No toys, can't put those under the Christmas tree with kids in
the house. But a good Christmas all in all.

Hermione: I found a new spanking toy under the tree; it's a black leather paddle shaped like an open hand. Ron tried it out briefly, over my jeans. It felt good, but he warned me that I might not like it so well later. Two days later he applied it to my bare bottom and he was right, as usual. That hand has a sharp but pleasant sting.

Ronnie: I got a spanking and a couple of toys. One was a heart shaped spatula.

Sunday, December 27, 2015

Welcome back, one and all, to our weekend spanko brunch. I hope you all had an enjoyable, pleasant, or at least tolerable Christmas. Do you enjoy turkey leftovers? Good. Help yourself to a sandwich and let's get started.

Did you give or receive any spanking-related surprises for Christmas? Perhaps an unexpected or well-deserved spanking? Or maybe just a stress reliever? What about implements - was there a new paddle or strap under the tree? Did you include seasonal outfits in your play?

Leave your reply as a comment, and once everyone has commented I will publish a summary of our discussion.

Friday, December 25, 2015

The halls are decked, the presents so carefully wrapped are now unwrapped, carols are blaring from the stereo, the turkey is either in the oven, on the table, or still defrosting if you forgot to take it out of the freezer last night. It's Christmas!

Tuesday, December 22, 2015

Today's tale is a letter published in The Governess magazine. A reader, in her late sixties at the time of writing, remembers an incident from her girlhood where she believes herself to have been unjustly punished, yet says corporal punishment changed her life.

At the time, in the early 1950s, I was of that age when I fitted that Victorian term, "a great girl". I was between 17 and 18 and, although womanly in build, not in any voluptuous way. I was childish and gawky in manner, the youngest and the only girl in an Irish middle-class family living in the country. Daddy was in business. Both my brothers and I adored Mummy. We had a live-in cook and a "day-girl", yet we were not rich nor was our home extravagant - an old rambling place at the end of a long drive, once owned by an Anglo-Irish family who had left upon the advent of Irish independence.

My shaping event occurred on a day in summer. I was on holiday from school which I had one more year to attend. As I often liked to do, I went for a bike ride to a nearby pal's house. She, I discovered, was out; and on my return journey I was caught up by another cyclist. A man! I suppose he was in his mid-twenties with a small case and his jacket in a carrier on his bicycle. He wished me good day and we began chatting as we rode. Eventually he suggested we stop for a rest. I thought he was quite handsome and though shy I was flattered. He was, I think, a clerk or such like who, in those pre-car days, often used to bicycle on business journeys. As we sat on the bank and chatted he remarked how hot the sun was and perhaps we might find a shady spot.

Remounting our bikes we went on until we reached the two stone gateposts, so common in Ireland, at the end of our drive. Just inside was what we called the "soldiers hut", an old stone hut, used perhaps by the Black and Tans to guard the Anglo-Irish family during the 'troubles', now used as a hay store for our pony.

Without much, if any, persuasion, the chap and I leaned our bikes against the wall and went inside. In the dim light and on the soft hay it was but a moment before I was in the arms of the young man. He kissed me - my first real kiss indeed - then the long drawn out but really harmless embrace, his hands all over me, my thin blouse undone, my lower clothes just raised and my thighs stroked. Such kisses. Tongues - oh the lust of me too - yet a sort of unspoken line drawn, his realisation of my innocence and his decency. Yet how aroused I was! Him too - I could feel it - I was not that innocent! We clung together for an hour, maybe two, then my new and still unknown friend had to leave me. He cycled off towards the town and I wheeled my bike up to the house. I knew I looked dishevelled, though I had done up my buttons and smoothed my hair.

No sooner had I put my bike in the shed than Mother called me in. Her face was furious. She knew! She somehow knew that I had been what they called 'bold'. And when Mother told Mrs. Carney to come into the drawing-room I knew I was for it! Previously only my brothers had been beaten by Mrs. Carney at my mother's request. Now it was my turn! When the oh so hefty looking cook came into the drawing-room she already knew the reason, saying I should be more careful where I took boys.

In a daze I was ordered over the table, my thin skirt removed, knicks left on. Then Mother said to the cook, "You know what to do. She is becoming a wanton girl and the boys' cane will teach her a lesson!" I was in terror. I had seen my brothers' bottoms after a caning, such weals, and how they yelled! Now I would be the one to feel it!

Mother told Mrs. Carney, "As hard as you can. Make her feel it!" No mention of how many strokes! I thought it would be at most six. At the very first swish I thought I would die. By four I was howling, then two more and I thought it was over. How wrong I was! I took ten strokes. I thought I truly would die and again I was certain it must be over. Dimly I heard Mother's voice, "Give her another ten. Then we'll see how it looks" - and that woman thrashed me, each cut of the cane making me add a fresh note of agony to my bellows.

At last I'd had the second ten, and I felt my knickers pulled right down and a cool hand examining my raw flesh. Then, "Six more on her bare bottom - and make sure she feels them!" I recall begging for mercy, to no avail. Those final six cuts burned into my flesh and I fainted, coming round to find my mother again running her hands gently, and I thought lovingly, over my tender burning bottom. She ordered me to stand up, pull up my knickers and put on my skirt.

"Now, young lady, you may not be so keen on disgracing yourself with men!" she said. Then I was told to get my tea, hardly able to walk let alone sit at table, then I was told to go to bed with the threat "Next time you are caught with a man, I'll have you horse-whipped!"

How unjust it seemed. I surely had done no harm. A few lovely kisses and lying in a man's arms. Later, as I lay in pain in my bed, I had the strangest feeling, as if the caning, agony though it was, had been part of a wonderful experience. It was one that began an inner desire - totally subdued for years - for that delicious combination of pain, love and pleasure with which many of us here are familiar.

Isn't it significant that she and her brothers "adored Mummy"? By the way, The Governess magazine is available in book form on Amazon.

Monday, December 21, 2015

This week we had an exciting discussion about the ages of spanking enthusiasts.

Dr. Ken: Well, we're all ages, really, and it's hard to say where the "majority"
lies. I will say this, though--I'm a member of the Chicago Crimson Moon
spanking group, and every spanking party I go to, there are more and
more young people attending for the first time and discovering the joys
of spanking and the joys of a spanking party.

Fred: I totally disagree, there has never been a better time to be a spanko. I
have been fascinated by spanking since childhood, but I had no idea
there were so many others, I thought I was unique and alone. But here
in 2015 we have the internet, blogs, Twitter and email and I have
discovered that I am not alone, there are millions of us.

Age is irrelevant, I have met enthusiasts at parties and munches that are many years my junior, others that are older. For those just awakening to their spanking interest they only have to type the work into a search engine.... If only that had been available to me in 1970!

Bella: I am 38. He is 36.

Downunder Don: I am 61, Mumski is 56

PK Corey: Nick's 64, I'm 59.

abby: Master and I are both in our 60's...just barely. He has been a spanko
ever since He can remember...I got my first spanking at 50....

Dan: I ran a poll on my blog on this issue. For those into F/m oriented
disciplinary spankings, the over 50 crowd won by a very large margin.

Hobbes: If you check FetLife for the most popular fetishes on the site by number
listing it, spanking is in a dead heat for first at 490,508, less than
one percent behind bondage which is second and oral sex, first. With
that many the age spread is very wide. What got me was in fourth place?
Hairpulling. Yep. That won't work with me . . . *L*. Been spanking
happily with just one person now for more than forty years. Never
imagined how widespread this was till I got online about twenty years
ago.

Anon 1: I am 55 and a spanker for 30 years, she is 53, and got first from a different spanker at 46.

Sir Wendel: I got my first spanking when I was 22 and I spanked a 21 year old. It
has continued ever since. My guess is that all there are spankos in all
age groups and that the older group seems more likely to openly
socialize about it.

Simon: As I am generally on the receiving end I can only comment on men who
like to be spanked and most of those I have met, at spanking parties,
have been at least 50 years old. This doesn't mean that the majority of
spankers are old however as it is not a big enough group for it to be a
meaningful sample. I'm sure there are younger men and women enjoying
spanking but I'm just not meeting them because I'm so ancient.

Roz: We are in our late 40's and early 50's but have both had an interest in spanking for many years.

Wilma: I am in my early mid-forties ( what it's a thing!) and my husband early 50's. I was 41 when I received my first adult spanking.

Leigh: I'm the oldest of the commenters so far and I've had the desire in my
teens, twenties, thirties, forties, fifties, sixties and now in my
seventies. Ray not so much - but he's game - well at least some of the
time.

Jan: I am 56, he is 62. I don't care how old we are, I love spanking!

Baxter: I am the spankee and 59 years old and have been interested in spanking
for most of my life. I had to work to get my wife to spank me and she
started doing it 10 or so years ago. She recently told me that she
wished she had gotten in to spanking early on in our marriage as it
would have been fun and I agree. We have been married 32 years and enjoy
bending over for her to spank my bottom and would have enjoyed it 30
years ago. Well, time to catch up.

Six of the best: I am an 82 year old gentleman, and have enjoyed being a 'spanko' for
about 70 years. Having grown up in England, where I fantasied at school,
wishing to spank one of my female teachers on her knickers down bare
bottom. And loved the spanking scene ever since.

Renee Yielding: I am 34, he is 44 and we are in our first year of DD.

Welcome, Renee!

Anon 2: I am 58, my husband 68. We are domestic discipline "learners" have been
practicing about 5 months. He is cautious, spanking goes against
everything he's been taught, but we both know this life style is working
for us, we are learning something new almost every day.

Hermione: I have no statistics available, but I think that spanking appeals to all ages, for those so inclined by nature, or interested in experimenting. We are both in the over 60 category, and have been happily spanking for over 30 years.

Sunday, December 20, 2015

The holiday season is upon us once more, and it's rush, rush, rush to get everything done. So let's pause for a moment and relax by talking about spanking. Enzo suggested today's topic when he wrote, "I am ever interested in demographics. For some reason I feel like the majority of spankers are older than I am and somehow I may have been born too late (despite the 50 Shades of Gray flash popularity)." So, dear readers, what do you think?

Are the majority of today's spanking enthusiasts young (20s and 30s), middle-age (40s and 50s), or more mature (60s and over)?

Leave your response as a comment and I will publish a summary of our conversation once everyone has had a chance to join in.

Saturday, December 19, 2015

Bella: She's wondering how long she can keep that pose in the sweltering heat of the desert.

Dr. Ken: Considering the very strict laws of the land they were in, the horn was
the only thing that was going to get blown on this vacation....

Leigh: He couldn't find any bubbles and hoped the horn would do.

Rollin: You think King Tut's gonna come waltzin' out of there just 'cause you blowin' that horn?

Six of the best: Hermione I will relate to you a true story. When I visited the pyramids
on a camel in Egypt, the guide asked all the tourists, "Who built the
pyramids?" I said with a wink in my eye. "My ancestors." And he
looked at me with a quizzical look.

Nina: She enjoyed sitting on the cool stone, because she knew once her husband stopped playing he'd roast her bottom.

Baxter: You can blow that horn all you want, you are still going to get spanked, mister.

Sir Wendel: Mayble asked Clyde for a couple of drinks. Not photoshopped in front of the Sphinx.

js666: After the battle, the Emerald City was a scene of devastation, but
Glinda's forces had prevailed. Both the Wicked Witches recovered their
beauty, but for all the damage they had caused, the Wizard spanked them
both soundly.

And Knuck was finally able to blow a fanfare.

Hermione: Even more than the spanking she had just received, Harriet hated having to sit on the hot sand and listen to Otis play his trumpet.

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

We have been enjoying the original House of Cards television series, made in the 1990s starring Ian Richardson, and not to be confused with the current American remake with Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright. The original is much better.

Recently we watched the episode from season two in which the king (admirably played by Michael Kitchen, who sounds exactly like Prince Charles) visits the poor neighbourhoods in some of the cities in England.

He is greeted by a rousing chorus of God Save the King played by the residents on a collection of steel drums. They did a pretty good job!

As it happened, I got spanked later that same day. Ron used, among other implements, a sturdy wooden spoon. As he paddled, I thought I detected a familiar rhythm.

"Are you playing 'God Save the King'"? I queried, referring to the television show we had just seen, and hoping he might stop to answer and give me a bit of a break.

"Could be," he replied, never missing a beat. Sure enough, he tapped out an entire verse of "God Save the Queen" (it won't be renamed "God Save the King" for a long time to come, I hope) on my poor bottom. His rendition wasn't as melodious as the steel drum version, but I added some vocal accompaniment.

Note to American readers: the tune is the same as "My Country 'tis of Thee" in case you want to hum along.

Tuesday, December 15, 2015

This is a short story from an American spanking compendium called So Spank Me by Jay Lawrence and E. Edmund Debarquet. I hope you enjoy "Jeannette".

In which a sassy young miss underestimates the amount of time it takes to ride the roads and discovers that kindling is not the only thing in woodsheds that burns...

I slammed my Harley into Three Mile curve with the throttlecranked damn near open, wind howling in my hair and hot summer air blasting my face. The speedometer needle quivered around 85 and the hog ate the tarmac like a pig in Wendy's. I was six miles down the back road with another six to go. I hunched lower on the saddle and opened the throttle even more, 85, 90... Throttle down, clutch, drop gears, clutch out, down to 60 and open the throttle again for the curve.

At this rate I'd cover the distance in about ten minutes.

I was on my way to see Jeanette. Sassy Jeanette.

At least, sassy when she thought I was safely in my workshop with my Harley in half a dozen pieces all over the goddam floor. The thing was, when she started sassing me on the phone I hadn't had time to mention that I'd pulled an all-nighter and got the machine back together.

So after a fair amount of sass, I said, "You know, Jeanette, what you really need is a spanking."

"Oh, sure," her voice had come back over the line, smug and smirking, "You and whose army, big guy?"

"I have half a mind..." I said.

"...I know."

"...to come over there, get your mom's leather paddle off the wall, and take you out to the woodshed."

Her mother had a really nice leather paddle she'd got a shoemaker friend to make up. It got used mostly on the young kids in the family. Had been used on Jeanette when she was young. I figured she had probably forgotten what it felt like.

"Yeah, well, it's a long walk and I wouldn't be here when you got here," she giggled.

"How long do you think it would take me to get there?" I asked.

"Longer than your dong." Giggles.

"Alright," I said, "tell you what, smarty pants. I'll make you a deal. You go out to the woodshed and wait a half hour. I'll start from here. If I make it in a half hour you get the spanking. Deal?"

"What if you don't?" Pouting. She had it made, no question.

Good old deBarquet humping his ass down the highway in the futile hope of spanking sexy little Jeanette's well-packed bottom.

"I'll buy you something."

"Maybe. But you aren't allowed to hitchhike or get a ride from friends."

"OK," I said, smiling from ear to ear, "no hitching, no getting a ride from friends. Deal. Now, you hang up the phone and go out to the woodshed. Take Sandi's paddle with you."

She had hung up with another giggle.

I knew this little witch. She would do exactly that. Take the paddle and go out to the woodshed. And wait exactly half an hour. Then probably she'd get her bicycle and pedal down by Rafter Ridge, so she could spend a delightful half hour or so watching deBarquet humping along the highway far below. Then she'd make herself scarce, her little ass safe from the deadly leather paddle. I had to laugh as I leaned the Harley into the last curve before Jeanette's cabin came into view. She would be in the woodshed, giggling away to herself, probably swinging the paddle in the air, whistling a little ditty she'd composed based on my second name, which is Edmund, by the way.

I wondered when she would first hear the throaty roar of the Harley. Probably as soon as I came around the Stone Finger about a half mile from her place. I could just see it. The blood would drain from her face as the little witch heard the motorbike. At first she would hope it was Lazy Billy, who rode a hog and lived about three miles further along. She'd wait, rembling, listening for the Hog to roll on by and on up to Lazy Billy's.

I looked at my watch and laughed again. 3:23. We'd hung up our phones at 3:12 or so. About twelve minutes. She'd have to stay in the woodshed nearly twenty more minutes.

I throttled down, then rode leisurely past her rutted driveway, knowing that behind her cabin, in the woodshed, a snippy little miss would be breathing a sigh of relief, perhaps rubbing at her bottom. Just Lazy Billy. Edmund's bike was still in pieces. Her firm little bottom would not feel the paddle today.

Or would it?

About a hundred yards along I swung the Harley around and drifted back to her driveway. Now she'd be sweating. What would she think? That Lazy Billy was riding by and suddenly took it into his head to drop in?

I moved up the driveway, the heavy cycle bouncing a bit on the ruts, the rumble of its pipes echoing off the cedar forest all around me. I swung around the corner of her cabin, noting that there was no sign of life. Good. Sandi and the little ones were out. That would make it easier. I pulled up on the packed earth of the back yard, clutch in, gently cracking the throttle with my right hand. There were a couple of chickens scratching at the packed dirt. A rusting child's swing set stood abandoned nearby. The back of the woodshed was directly before me. I didn't have too long to wait.

Jeanette came around the corner, her face pale, walking like she was stepping in dog dip the whole way. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

"Eddie..." she said.

"Cor-rect," I laughed.

"Your bike..."

"Is fixed. Was last night. You just didn't ask the right question."

Jeanette licked her lips, and ran a nervous hand through her long, curly black hair. She was wearing a yellow halter top that didn't do much to conceal her budding young breasts and her hips were encased in tight, faded blue jeans. She was wearing black leather, ankle-length boots with a silver chain around the right ankle.

I swung off the bike, setting the heavy kick-stand and killing the engine. I could hear birds singing in the sudden stillness of the yard. From somewhere came the crackle of a grasshopper. A light breeze had come up and played through Jeanette's hair.

She looked at her slim-line watch. I laughed. No help there. I'd made the trip in less than 15 minutes, including the time I'd spent screwing around and making her think I might be Lazy Billy. No Lazy Billy today, darling. Just Spanky Edmund.

I walked over to her, smiling a victory smile. Her eyes got even wider.

"Ah, you want to go inside for a beer?" she tried as I drew up to her.

"Well, I sure would," I smiled, taking her by her arm.

Relief flashed across her beautiful face. Thank god. It was just a joke. Just for a moment her right hand caressed her ass through the skin-tight jeans.

"But first," I said, gently turning her around towards the woodshed, "there's a little business in yonder shed, right?"

"EDDIE..."

She dug her heels into the yard earth, hanging back from the suddenly dreaded woodshed. Did her no good. I was six foot one of young muscle, and slinging her over my shoulder was effortless. Draped over my shoulder, her little ass was perfectly positioned and I gave her a cracking spank with my right hand!

SMACK!!

"OW!"

She kicked, but I had her legs wrapped in my left arm. I started to walk into the woodshed. God, but her little ass felt good. So round and firm. I couldn't resist.

I stepped into the coolness of the shed, beautiful Jeanette still draped over my left shoulder. There on the floor beside a massive chopping block was the leather paddle, just where Jeanette had dropped it when she heard the Harley roll into her yard. I bent forward, placing Jeanette's feet on the floor. The shed was cool and smelled of fresh cut cedar, a smell that has stayed with me ever since. I cannot smell fresh wood without thinking of that sultry summer day and Jeanette. Beautiful, sassy little Jeanette.

Before she could say anything I had stooped and scooped up the leather paddle, an ominous eighteen-inch double strip of heavy leather, stitched up the sides and well-worn from a generation of bottoms.

"It's time, babe," I said, grinning at her, not letting go of her arm.

"Eddie, I take it back, what I said," she said, apprehension in her violet eyes. "I didn't mean..."

"You didn't mean it if my Hog was snortin'," I laughed, "trouble is, you thought it wasn't even gruntin'."

"Eddie..."

That was enough talk. I suddenly sat on the chopping block and spun sexy Jeanette over my knees. God, she looked so beautiful lying there, her tight little ass projecting up, just the balls of her feet resting on the earthen floor. She twisted to look back over her shoulder at me, her eyes wild.

"Eddie..."

I reached my right hand under her hot little hips and deftly sprang the button on her jeans, sliding the zipper down. She gasped and tried to thwart me by driving her hips down tight onto my knees. Didn't work. I got the zipper down.

"Goddam you, deBarquet," she snarled as the zipper hit the base of her fly. "You're not..."

"Oh yes I am," I smiled, grabbing the back of her jeans and starting to work them down her hips. She squirmed and reached back with her right hand, trying to get a grip on her pants. Her bottom heaved and stretched with the effort. My dong got very hard.

Grabbing her by the right wrist with my left hand I continued working her pants down and away from her delightful little bottom. It was the first time I'd seen Jeanette's ass and in all the years since that day, through all the spankings I've given, I have never seen anything so absolutely delightful. Sweet Jeanette. As the faded jeans came past her hips I could see the cleft of her gorgeous little ass under the thin yellow silk of her panties. She was heaving around on my knees, trying to keep me from getting the jeans down, and I could see her sex now and again as she flexed her ass.

"DAMN YOU DEBARQUET YOU BASTARD NOT MY UNDERPANTS!!!" she howled as I grabbed the elastic of her panties.

"Right, babe, them too," I said, pulling the skimpy briefs down and away from her ass.

There before me was Jeanette, naked where it counted, her ass white where her bathing suit had shielded her from the sun, a tawny tan on her legs and back. I rested my right hand on her hot flesh.

She tightened her ass in spite of herself.

"Useless to squirm around, girl," I said, bringing my hand down on her ass with a sharp CRACK.

"OW! GODDAM YOU!" Jeanette yelped as my hand print appeared in pink on her straining ass.

I reached down to where I'd propped the paddle and picked it up, getting a firm grip on the worn handle.

"JESUS CHRIST YOU BASTARD NOT THE FUCKING PADDLE!"

CCRRRACCKKKK!

The paddle rebounded off Jeanette's ass.

"AAAIIIEEEEEEE!" she screamed.

Now there was a rectangular pink area across her heaving cheeks.

CRRACCCKCKKKKKKK!

I brought the paddle across Jeanette's ass again in a searing spank that made her damn near climb out of her skin. Christ it was hard as hell to hang onto her. Goddam hillbilly girl with muscles like whipcord. She kicked her feet out, trying to squirm off my knees. I locked her down with my left forearm across her back and applied the paddle again.

CCRRACCCKKKKKK!

"EEEEEEEEE!"

CRRRACKKKKKK!

Jeanette howled and twisted back again, jacking her ass upwards and trying to move backwards off my knees. Couldn't do it, I still had the hammer lock on her right arm.

CCCRRACCCKKKKK!

Now her heaving ass was turning a bright and cheery red in the dim light of the shed.

"AAAAAHHHHHOOOWWWW!!!" she howled.

No Miss Smarty-pants now, by Jesus. I brought the paddle whistling down again on Jeanette's naked bottom.

CRRACCCCKKKKKK!!!

And then again and again.

CRRACCCCKKKKK!!!!

CRRACCCKKKKK!!!

Now my little smarty wasn't even trying to get off my knees. She was howling and kicking, her feet drumming the earth, her ass straining, clenching, writhing. I could see sweat beading on the ridged muscle of her lower back and on the straining cheeks of her well-packed little ass.

I applied the leather paddle with a rhythmic cracking, letting it fairly bounce off her heaving little backside. Jeanette wasn't cursing now! She was just howling!! Howling, kicking, clenching. It was absolutely unbelievable. Her feet just touched the woodshed floor with each kick, then came flying up to nearly touch her glowing ass. A dozen. Two dozen. I could have spanked my willful miss all day.

Then I decided she'd had enough. Her beautiful little ass was absolutely red, just flaming. I stopped the paddling and rested my hand on her burning skin.

Jeanette was slumped over my knee, her legs still, her bottom radiating heat. She was snuffling and blubbering. That had been a marvel of a paddling, probably the best (or worst, depending on whether you were Jeanette) that she'd ever had.

I let go of her and she stumbled to her feet, desperately rubbing at her wounded ass, oblivious to her near nakedness. God she was so damn beautiful, even with her face tear-streaked and her hair in a tumbled disarray. At last she gingerly pulled her panties up over her blistered ass, then her tight jeans. She didn't do up the zipper or snap.

"So girl," I said, "where's the beer? You going to be good, now?"

She surprised me. Stepping back she gave me a strange look, a look I would come to know much better as the summer went on, and said "I'll be good, Eddie. You just might be surprised how good..."

Monday, December 14, 2015

Why are women so reluctant to spank men? Here are the reasons you came up with.

Downunder Don: For us spanking is the ONLY time that Mumski willingly gives up power and control. So I know that she feels uncomfortable when the tables are turned and I ask for a spanking. I think that she identifies strongly that it is her place to submit to a spanking and in so doing receive what she wants....and not the other way around

Dragon's Rose: Dragon doesn't want to be spanked and the thought of spanking another
man is just gross. So the idea of spanking a man is not an issue I even
think about. It feels too much like role reversal to me.

Roz: I have on occasion spanked Rick, but in a more playful way. It just doesn't sit totally right. I am definitely the spankee.

abby: I have given Master some playful swats...but any more than that...I
cannot imagine...for me, it is my nature to be submissive. In general, I
think it is partially a cultural thing....

Lindy: Bear has informed me he is the spanker in our house. We tried reversing
the role once in fun, but he didn't like it. So I'm the submissive one
here.

Nina: Hi Hermione, if it was just the occasional swat on a hot bum, I am sure
many women like doing that. Spanking men in general? I think that there
are many dominant women, not only dominant men, so I'd imagine them
spanking their submissive men too. I couldn't spank hubby, that
would not feel right and good for me at all. I think none of us could
see any positive in that; the other way round is what we want and do. :)

Ella: No, No, No. That could never feel right. Me being spanked by Sam is
what I have craved my whole life long. If even once I ever spanked him,
the roles would be forever changed. And not for the better.

I
have tried to explain it before. Sam being dominant is like breathing
pure oxygen. It is natural and necessary. Sometimes he doubts a
decision he makes. I tell him honestly that he cannot make a mistake.

Anon 1: V knew about my spanking fetish before we wed, but we were never too
involved with it outside of a playful birthday spanking and infrequent
use as foreplay. For about 6 months in 2014 we tried disciplinary
spankings with corner time and accountability, but as that got more
serious and intense, it was clear that only I was getting anything out
of it. She had to go into kind of a trance to even get through it. So I
quit asking her to spank me. Mom must have been telling the truth when
she said, "this is going to hurt me a lot more than it hurts you."
Recently I saw a professional disciplinarian, and V agrees that is the
preferred way for us to go forward.

Anon 2: Nature endowed the ladies with the most delightful rounded bouncy
bottoms, ideal and asking for, a good spanking, which will raise them to
a smarting, sexy burn, without doing any lasting damage. The male
backside however is firmly muscular, and of little attraction for
spanking, and the delicate female hand would make little impression on
it, unless wielding a forceful implement. I feel that she would only
want to spank her man if he had just given her such a severe hiding that
she was thirsting for revenge. Only once was I caught, leaning out of a
window trapped by the sash across my back. She was very cross with me,
took down my trousers, and used a cane on my bare rump, until I was
asking for mercy! Soon after she was in a similar pose, the cane
striping her lovely bottom, after which I parted her cheeks to bring her
to a happy ending. Now it always her bottom in the firing line.

Jenn: For me, I don't enjoy controlling a man and seeing him in pain. I don't
want to be with a man who requires my frequent correction. I want a man
who is strong, directed, and fully in control of himself.

We use
spanking to re-establish our roles and to keep me from taking charge of
everything in the relationship. I am allowed to take charge of
everything for days at a time, until it becomes too much for him and he
feels the need to correct me. It's a good thing for our relationship.

We
could not use spanking to keep him from taking charge of the
relationship, because he doesn't try to do that on a daily basis. So,
it's just not necessary.

Having said that, I will be willing to
"play" every now and then in the future, delivering a few firm whacks
with the wooden paddle. He says he'd like that, although I don't really
want to see him going sub. I like him as a dominant man.

[Note: I
am in a new relationship, the first ever with a real intellectual and
physical connection -- including spanking! I love it. I feel like I
finally have it all!]

Wilma: I think most women are reluctant to spank a man for various reasons.
The first being the answers you are getting from submissive women here.
For many of us the physical aspect of ttwd goes hand in hand with the
mental dominance.

I would imagine on top of that would be the
cultural or traditional upbringings we've had. Older movies, tv shows,
stories, seemed to lend themselves to a woman being 'put in her place'
usually with a hand put on the right place. When it came to men being
put in their place, it usually involved the comment of a fry pan upside
the head. So perhaps just as some men have grown up with the idea that
women shouldn't be punished or spanked even for fun, women have grown up
with the idea that men are the stronger sex physically and therefore
spanking them would equally be out of place? (For the record I don't
think I am wording this properly.)

Baxter: I am the spankee/spanko and thankfully my wife has no issues using a
paddle, crop or wooden spoon on my bottom. I occasionally spank her, but
most of the time it is her spanking me. It took quite a few years of
bringing it up occasionally for her to catch on and with 32 years of
marriage behind us, she is agreeable to spanking me with whatever is
handy and I love it.

Sir Wendel: Like Baxter my missus has no problem tanning up my backside. Hopefully it never changes.

Ronnie: That's a hard one and I don't have an answer. My opinion, I wouldn't say
reluctant to but don't want or feel the need to. It depends on their
relationship and their upbringing. I think a lot of men wouldn't want a
women to spank them. Some women would think they have to be dominant and
certainly wouldn't want to be that. They think spanking a man was out
of place, not right. I don't know.

Kaelah: A very interesting question, thank you Bogey and Hermione! I would like
to throw in some thoughts on my behalf. I think I'll try not to let my
comment become too long, though, and write a more detailed post about
the topic on our blog.

Since I am a switch and like getting
spanked as much as spanking, I am of course not reluctant to spank men.
But I think I have come across quite a few reasons why other women are.

1.) Initial reluctance to top as a newbie:I've
experienced that myself. Even though I was never opposed to the thought
of spanking another person, I preferred to make my first experiences in
the scene as a bottom. That way I could rely on the guidance of an
experienced top and get a feeling for how it is to be on the receiving
end before topping another person. I've seen quite a few (especially
young) women who started out as spankees only and developed into
switches or maybe even exclusive tops after a while.

2.) Personal sexual preferences:Even
among those for whom spanking is "just" a form of erotic play, some
people simply only enjoy being on the giving or the receiving end. Maybe
they even try out switching but decide that it doesn't give them the
thrill they are seeking.

3.) Spanking in D/s-, DD-, M/s-relationships:The
majority of men and women in these kinds of relationships only seem to
practise spanking with their partner. It is more than sexual play here,
though, it is about permanent roles in the relationship. One is the
dominant / HOH / leader / daddy / master or however a certain couple
defines the role while the other is the submissive / follower / girl /
slave (in an M/F-relationship, of course there are similar
F/M-relationships as well). I've come across very few exceptions from
that rule, but it seems to me that usually the concept of these
relationships connects the role of the spanker with the role of the
leader and doesn't allow for any spanking experiences the other way
round. So, if a woman in such a relationship sees herself as the
submissive, she has no interest in switching because she wants her man
to be in the role of the leader all the time and being the spanker is a
part of that role.

4.) Cultural background / traditional gender roles / religious beliefs about gender roles:I
think this approach is even more extreme than the last one I wrote
about because it is based on the assumption that men and women generally
have to fulfil certain ("naturally given") traditional gender roles
which also define their role when it comes to (erotic) spanking.
According to this belief the fact that men are usually physically
stronger than women also means that they are the natural leaders in a
relationship who should take their (soft, submissive) woman in hand.
Since spanking is seen as an expression of that male dominance and
strength there is only one "correct" way according to this belief - and
that is a man spanking a woman.

5.) The "Men who seek out being spanked or are spanked can't be real tops / are weak" approach:I
think this one is closely connected to number 4, but I guess you can
also find it among women who only seek spankings for erotic fun and go
to spanking parties. The idea behind that is that someone who isn't
toppy / dominant all the time isn't a "real" top / dominant.

So
much for the reasons I have come across why some women are reluctant to
spank men. I would like to add that especially number 4 seems to depend a
lot on the country people live in – it is obviously much more common in
the US than, for instance, here in Germany (where there are also quite
many spanking parties for men who see spanking as erotic fun and like to
be on the receiving end). I have many personal thoughts on the
different approaches but I will write more about them in a separate post
because this comment is really long already.

Hermione: I have no statistics to go by, but there are plenty of male visitors to my blog who are regularly spanked by women. I think that willingness to spank is not gender-related. The natural inclination is either there or not there in both men and women. If a person has no desire to spank, but that person's significant other wishes to be spanked, then it's decision time. Spank because the partner wants and needs it? Or decline because it's distasteful or outside one's own level of comfort?

Would I ever spank Ron? No, because it's not something he wants. He is the dominant partner in our relationship and I an the submissive one. But if he asked me to—not that he ever would—I would comply, even though I might do so reluctantly. But who knows? I just might come to enjoy it!

Sunday, December 13, 2015

Welcome, dear friends, to our regular weekly discussion. Today's topic was suggested by our good friend Bogey, who said, "The topic I would like to see discussed in depth is why are women so
reluctant to spank men. This could only be discussed on a blog like this
where there are plentiful female readers."

So today let's discuss this, and as usual, men and women on both sides of the paddle are encouraged to join in the conversation.

Do you think that most women are reluctant to spank men? Why or why not?

Leave your thoughts as a comment, and once everyone has had a chance to give their opinion I will publish a summary of our discussion.